Baltimore Evening Sun (27 March 1912): 6.

A bottle of bay rum for the name and addess of any man not spoofing or insane who is willing to say publicly that he believes it will be at all difficalt to got a drink of malt liquor at Back River on any Sunday afternoon of the coming summer.

Somebody ought to send out a police matron to take care of that charter them boomers made up.

With another water famine threatening and no intelligible plan for preventing it under consideration, the chances seem to favor a considerable increase in typhoid fever during the coming summer, and so it behooves every Baltimorean to look to his own safety. Three or four years ago his only certain means of escape was ignominious flight, but now the typhoid vaccine offers him an even greater security, and besides that greater security it has two advantages, the one being its relative cheapness and the other being the fact that its protection extends only to the fellow who actually pays for it.

In brief, it protects the individual and not the mass, and so it helps the law of natural selection–a benign and agreeable business. The objection to most other devices of preventive medicine is that they oppose that law. The war upon tuberculosis, for example, must have eventually the effect of preserving many of the unfit, and the result cannot fail to be damage to the race as a whole. And so with compulsory vaccination, the conquest of malaria and various other such schemes and triumphs of prophylaxis. All of them save lives indiscriminately, and so, while sentimentally satisfying, they are apt to give the farseeing sociologist pause.

The typhoid vaccine, in civil life and at least for the present, works no such humane havoc. To make use of it, of course, is not an absolute proof of intelligence, but it is certainly an indication of a degree of intelligence measurably higher then that of the man who fears it as occult and baleful, and so puts his trust in Peruna and the laying on of hands. It is very important to civilization that the death rate among persons of the latter class shall be greater than that among those of the more intelligent classes, and therefore we may justifiably revere the typhoid vaccine, until crazy laws make its use compulsory, as an agent of progress. The death of a man who believes in patent medicines and sorcery is an event at once amusing to the judicious and beneficial to the world, for with it a stream of muddy blood is dried up, whereas the death of a man who knows better may conceivably leave an aching void.

These lofty thoughts I throw out as suggestions to the doctors of Baltimore, whose patients, I hear, often resist the typhoid vaccine, as something dangerous and even diabolical. Where argument fails, flattery may succeed. Every man, however modest, is pleased by the news that he is Intelligent and that his death would be a great loss to civilization. And women, I believe, suffer from the same weakness. Therefore, why not turn it to account? Why not sing the hymn that will really make converts? This suggestion I offer the physicians of our fair city, and what is more, I make no charge for it.

Now them bum newspapers has got something else again to make a sensation outen, and maybe they’ll let the poor stuffers alone.

Bad novels that are being eloquently praised by the newspaper reviewers:

“A Hoosier Chronicle,” by Meredith Nicholson.
“John Rawn,” by Enerson Hough.
“Christopher,” by Richard Pryce.

A good novel that no one seems to be noticing:

“Zuleika Dobson,” by Max Beerbohm.

The best American novel (and a benevolently short one!) of the current crop:

“The Old Nest,” by Rupert Hughes.

How the vote stands in the grand race for the honor of nominating H. M. the super-Mahon on the floor of the Democratic National Convention:

The Hon. James McC. Trippe.....................................9,692 The Hon. Harry S. Cummings.....................................9,540 The Hon. McCay McCoy............................................8,747 The Hon. Jacobus Hook..............................................8,324 The Hon. Isaac Lobe Straus........................................5,950 The Hon. Aristides Sophocles Goldsborough.............3,726 The Hon. Bob Lee.......................................................3,699 The Hon. S. S. Field, LL. D. .......................................3,086 The Hon. Lee Carey....................................................2,863 The Hon. Mr. Fred.......................................................2,540 The Hon. Francis K. Carey..........................................2,467 The Hon. John Walter Smith.......................................1,978 The Hon. William H. Anderson..................................1,743 The Hon. Bob Carr......................................................1,379 The Hon. J. M. T. Finney, M. D. ................................1,279 The Hon. George Lewis...............................................1,245 The Hon. Carville D. Benson......................................1,230 The Hon. H. L. Mencken.............................................1,228 The Hon. Edward Rossmann.......................................1,113 The Hon. Edgar F. Dobson..........................................1,104 The Hon. John O’Malley.............................................1,001

No candidate who has fewer than 1,000 votes appears in this list. The surprise of the day is the spurt of the Hon. James McC. Trippe, who has stolen first place from the Hon. Isaac Lobe Straus. The latter, until a day or two ago, was generally believed to be H. M. the super-Mahon’s choice for the honor, but now it appears that all supermahonic support is being thrown to “Jim.” Meanwhile, the bravos of the Druid Hill Avenue Preston Club, a strong organization of Old-Fashioned Republicans, complicate the situation by sending in large packages of votes for the Hon. Mr. Cummings.

Here is the voting coupon. Fill it out, sign your name and send it to the Judges of Election, in care of The Evening Sunpaper:

For the distinguished honor of placing H. M. the super-Mahon in nomination as Democratic candidate for Vice-President of the United States, I vote for
The Hon. ................................................
(Signed) ......................................

The result of the vote will be announced again on Saturday. The contest will close promptly at noon on April 1.

Less than a week more of claptrap and chicanery at Annapolis! Then a blast upon Time’s merciful whistle–and 21 months of lawless peace!

From harlequins in office, and their circumambient zanies, sganarelles and scaramouches—good Lord, deliver us!

Scratch an anti-vivisectionist and you will find a Christian Scientist.

Bilen sie das Trinkwasser! Cooken die Millick! Helfet der Harry! Schmelsen die Fliege!

Only 19 days more of tedious sweating under the yoke of labor! Then the grand escape–and the appalling spectacle of a fat man seasick.